


Born to Take this Chance

by Ladylanternlight, luckynoir



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dancing, Fluff, Ice Skating, Lost Memories, M/M, the anastasia au no one asked for, yuuri is a lost prince
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-17 20:38:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9342782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladylanternlight/pseuds/Ladylanternlight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckynoir/pseuds/luckynoir
Summary: Yuuri is the true heir to the Russian throne who lost everything from his past, even his memories. All he remembers is his love for skating, and that somewhere out there, he has a family. On a journey to find them, he meets Viktor Nikiforov, a debonair con man from St. Petersburg, and realizes that love isn’t as far away as he thought.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> authors can be found on tumblr at [@ladylanternlight](http://www.ladylanternlight.tumblr.com) and [@brittsavedtheworld](http://www.brittsavedtheworld.tumblr.com) respectively!!

"Papa, tell me that story again!” Yuuri said, propping himself up on his elbows.

The stars glimmered in the cold sky outside, and pale moonlight fell in ribbons across the elaborate windowpane, reaching toward the darkened furniture. 

"Let's see, we left off with the brave princess traveling far away from Japan to meet her prince,” his father began, sitting on the corner of Yuuri’s four poster bed.

"You’re the prince, right papa?” Yuuri interrupted sleepily.

"Yes,” he laughed quietly. ”I am the prince."

“And mother is the princess,” he concluded, snuggling contentedly into the blankets. 

"Yes, Yuuri.”

He continued the story with a small smile. "Your mother, ah… the princess did not embark on this journey alone; she came to Russia with a gift. The gift far surpassed anything the prince had ever seen before; it was more brilliant than diamonds or gold, and was even more perfect than fallen snow.

“This gift was her son, who the prince came to love very much. Soon after she arrived, the prince and the princess fell in love and were married, and they became Queen and King of all Russia," he ended quietly.

 

The Czar turned away, hastily wiping at his eyes before tucking the covers snugly around his yawning son.

"Yuuri, it's getting late; you should go to sleep.”

 

Yuuri was quiet for a second, brown eyes thoughtful. "Papa, do you miss mother?" he asked, his soft voice touched with fatigue. 

 

"With all of my being, but I have her gift right here,” he said gently, leaning over to place a small kiss on Yuuri’s forehead, "and my love for you keeps her in my heart."

Yuuri smiled tiredly up at his father, and closed his eyes. “Goodnight, Papa.”

The Czar walked quietly toward the door, and smiled once again at his already dozing son. “Goodnight, Yuuri.”

~*~*~

“ _Yuuri!_ Wake up, piggy!” 

“I’m awake, I'm awake,” he mumbled, opening one eye to glance blearily at his cousin. “Good morning, Yurio.” 

“Come _on_ ,” he whined impatiently. “I want to skate!” He yanked at the blanket, but Yuuri instinctively pulled it out of his reach. 

“It's too _early_ ,” he muttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and reaching for his glasses. 

“It's not _that_ early,” he replied, pulling open Yuuri’s wardrobe and tossing some clothes at him. “Besides, don't you remember? Viktor’s coming with us today.” 

He smirked as Yuuri scrambled out of bed, cheeks flushing pink. “You don't want to keep your boyfriend waiting.”

“Shut up,” he stammered, lobbing a fluffy down pillow at Yurio. “He's not my boyfriend, anyway.” 

Yurio dodged it easily, and stuck his tongue out. “I'll be waiting at the pond, so hurry up!” His steps echoed down the long hallway as Yuuri haphazardly pulled on his clothes and ran a brush through his hair. 

~*~*~

“Sorry I'm late!” Yuuri called, a little breathless after running up the hill of snow. 

He saw a flash of long silver hair in the cold sunlight, and brilliant blue eyes were on him in an instant.

“Good morning, Yuuri!” Viktor grinned at him and waved, his scarf and oversized coat flapping in the wind. 

Viktor had been close to Yurio and him for as long as he could remember, far before he understood the world of convoluted politics and lofty titles. He was only a palace servant, but that had never really mattered. To Yuuri, he was just Viktor, the boy who’d always been there for him, who always made him smile.

He snapped out of his stupor when he felt Makkachin’s tiny paws on his leg, and waved back with a small smile. 

Yuuri lifted Makkachin closer to him, laughing as he left kisses all over his face. He set the puppy down before sitting beside him, absentmindedly running his fingers through the dog’s soft fur as he reached for his skates. His coat was groomed just as well as any of the dogs around the palace; it probably took Viktor a long time to brush out each knot in Makkachin’s tawny curls. Yuuri let his mind wander to thoughts of Viktor running his fingers through the strands of Yuuri’s hair, with a soft smile that made his blue eyes sparkle-

“Piggy, the ice is gonna melt by the time you get out here!” Yurio yelled.

Yuuri’s cheeks went pink, unrelated to the cold bite of the wind.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming!” Yuuri huffed as Yurio rolled his eyes and skated away.

He hastily pulled on his well worn skates. They were a bit too tight for him now, and the laces needed to be replaced, but they fit well enough, and it wasn’t like he could skate without them. 

Leaving Makkachin behind, Yuuri pushed out onto the ice. To him, the ice was far more beautiful than the lavish palace he lived in; it was one of the few places he truly felt at ease. The scraping of his blades against the frozen pond floated through the air as he glided gently towards Yurio.

Yurio was skating small circles around the edge of the pond, briefly illuminated by the sun when it broke through the trees. The forest rustled with the slight wind, and flurries of snow occasionally swept over the pond. The three boys talked idly while they looped around the ice, splitting apart now and then to practice simple spins. 

After a while, Yuuri stopped to relace his skates, laughing when he noticed Yurio racing Makkachin around the edge of the rink. He stood once his skates felt tight enough, and he turned to Viktor, about to call his attention to the pair when the words died on his lips. 

Viktor gracefully leapt from the ice, dancing through the air before effortlessly touching back down. Yuuri’s eyes widened, and before he could stop himself, he skated to Viktor.

“That was amazing,” he said, just loud enough for his words to carry over the wind.

“You really think so? Thanks, Yuuri,” he replied, almost sheepishly. 

They smiled at each other for a moment, and raced to the end of the pond. Yurio was perched on the edge of the ice, petting Makkachin when they took him by either arm and led him around the ice like they had when they were kids. He shoved them away, but there was no bite to it, and he grinned back at them when he quickly skated ahead. 

They circled the pond for a few minutes, chatting about nothing until Viktor stopped to rest and Yurio made to adjust his skates. Yuuri skated alone while he waited for them, and marveled in the quiet that so rarely came over their group.

He felt the rush of frigid air in his lungs as he picked up speed, gliding smoothly on the ice. He glanced back at Yurio, then Viktor, and felt a strange pull in his gut. Something in that moment, either the thrill of speed or the memory of Viktor’s jump took control, and before he could stop himself, he was in the air. 

For a split second, he was ecstatic, flying weightlessly over the ice just like falling snow-

His skate twisted out from under him, and the ground rushed up to meet him.

Viktor was at his side in an instant. “Yuuri! Are you alright?” 

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” Yuuri reassured brightly, wincing a bit as he made to get back up. “It wasn’t that bad of a fall, honest.”

Viktor took his hands, obvious concern in his eyes as he helped him to his feet. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can check your ankle if you want…”

Yuuri shivered at the touch of Viktor’s cold hands over his own. “N-no, you don't have to,” he mumbled, warmth creeping up his face. 

A gentle smile danced on Viktor’s lips, and he let one of his hands drop to his side. “If you say so.” He turned to Yurio, who had skated over to see what happened. “Are you ready to go back inside? Yuuri’s freezing.”

“I don’t want to go back in yet,” Yurio complained, crossing his arms.

“Please? Look at him, he’s shaking,” Viktor pouted.

“Ugh, _fine_.”

~*~*~

They headed back inside, and piled onto the velvet couch in the sitting room, while Makkachin curled up on the rug. The heat of the fire spread over them like a blanket, warming Yuuri to his toes. He snuggled against Viktor like he had so many times when they were kids, and Viktor hummed contentedly in response. 

Just then, a maid knocked politely on the open door. “Young lords? The Czar wants to see you in his study, if you’ll follow me.” Yurio hopped off the couch, and Yuuri followed slowly, glancing at Viktor apologetically. They were almost to the door when her eyes widened with recollection, and she smiled bashfully. “Oh, I’m sorry Viktor, he wants to see you too!”

They walked down the ornate corridor quietly, save for their echoing footsteps. The maid left them with a bow at the study’s door, and Yurio pulled it open before either of them could stop him.

“Uncle! Why did you want to see us?” he said animatedly, running into the room. 

“Hello, Yuratchka,” the Czar said, smiling cheerfully at the excited child. “Yuuri, Vitya, how was the ice today?”

“It was great, Father!” Yuuri grinned, moving to ruffle Yurio’s hair (instantly getting his hand batted away). ”Viktor did this amazing jump, I didn’t even know he could skate like that!” 

The Czar laughed, an amused twinkle in his eye. “Well, that hardly comes as a shock; he’s always surprising us on the ice.”

Viktor rubbed the back of his neck, and stammered, “Th-Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“There’s no need for formality, Vitya, you’re practically part of the family,” he replied with a smile. “That reminds me, I called you in here for a reason,” he said, walking behind his desk and grabbing two boxes. 

“I’m not sure if you remembered, but today marks the seventh year since Yurio came from Moscow to live with us,” he continued, handing the boxes to the two princes. “I know how you boys love to skate, so I had these made special for you in Paris.”

Yuuri lifted the lid off the box, and let out a soft gasp. 

Nestled in the velvet lining was a new pair of skates, the silver blades gleaming brightly. Yuuri marvelled at the subtle shine of the inky leather boots as he turned them over in his hands.

Yurio seemed just as surprised as him. “Thank you, Uncle.”

“Of course, Yuratchka. Oh!” He quickly pulled out another box from behind his desk. “Here Viktor, I almost forgot.”

Viktor was speechless as he dropped the box into his hands. “Thank you, sir, but I- I can’t accept these, they’re too-”

“Nonsense, I had them made especially for you. Yurio always loved skating more when you two were there, so it only made sense to get you all a matching pair.”

His eyes were wide as he ran his hands reverently over the material. His blades were a lustrous gold, while Yurio’s were as dark as night.  
“I had our emblem specially carved onto the blade, see?” He turned over Yurio’s right boot to reveal a tiny recreation of the double-headed eagle resting atop the word **_Paris_** written in elegant script. 

“Thank you so much, Father,” Yuuri said, already pulling on the skates and delighting at the way they seemed to fit perfectly. 

“Seeing you all happy is the only thanks I need,” he responded with a bright smile. “Shall we go to dinner? You must be hungry after skating all day.” 

Yurio nodded vehemently, and walked out of the room with the Czar. Yuuri turned back to Viktor, only to see him still gazing wordlessly at the skates, and smiled softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to clarify the ages: for most of this chapter, yuuri is 15, viktor is 17, and yurio is 12
> 
> also a few notes on the world structure:  
> -this is a very culturally blended world, so people from all over the continent live in russia, and having a japanese prince with no russian descent isn’t a big deal  
> -yuuri’s mother was a japanese princess, and she married the russian prince after his birth father died  
> -though he has no blood relation to the czar, he is the legal heir in the eyes of the people  
> -yurio’s father was the czar’s younger brother, and when he died he came to live with his uncle and cousin  
> -there is no prejudice against gay people
> 
> tldr; don’t worry about the politics guys this is an anastasia au
> 
> you can see some cool art [here!!](http://www.ladylanternlight.tumblr.com/post/155929062496/art-for-a-new-yuri-on-ice-fic-you-can-read-here/)
> 
> kudos and reviews are always appreciated!!


	2. Revolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick warning: there is some violence in this chapter, and a few mentions of death, but nothing too explicit

Yurio glided slowly around the edge of the unfamiliar ice, and huffed, “This ice isn't as good as our pond. How come Uncle won't let us skate there?”

“He said we shouldn't be so far from the castle, since there's been some protests going on in the city, remember?” Yuuri said, idly crossing one skate over the other. “He's just worried about us.”

“I know, but still,” Yurio grumbled. He turned away and skated as fast as he could, back and forth along the stream. He insisted that Viktor race him, but Viktor shook his head with a quiet laugh: he hadn’t even brought his skates that day.

“I have to work in an hour, remember? I’ll bring them for the next time we’re all together, though,” he said thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his chin. 

Yurio slowed down, and his eyes lit up. “Promise?”

Viktor grinned, and nodded. “Promise.”

A small smile crept onto Yuuri’s face. 

“Piggy!” A snowball glanced his shoulder, leaving a trail of powdery snow down his arm. “You race me instead, come on!”

“Alright, you’re on. I hope you’re ready to lose,” he teased, skating over toward him.

Yurio smirked, but as he moved to line up next to Yuuri, his skate slipped. He threw his arms out for an instant, trying in vain to catch his balance, and toppled backwards with a loud _oof._

“Yurio, are you okay?” Yuuri asked, eyes wide. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” he said, taking Yuuri’s hand with a soft _thanks_ and leveling a glare at the two guards Viktor had waved over from one of the castle’s back entrances.

They rushed over to him, stepping carefully on the ice. “Master Yuri, is everything alright?” 

“Yes, yes, everything’s fine,” he snapped, brushing the shaved ice from his pants.  
Despite the assuredness in his tone, Yuuri saw him wince as he bent to dust off his ankles. 

“Hey, are you sure? It looks like you’re-”

“Yurio, you should probably take a break,” Viktor said firmly, following Yuuri’s worried glance. “You could be injured.”

“But Viktor, it’s-” he grimaced as he shifted his left leg. He sighed, and crossed his arms. _“Fine._ But I’m coming right back out, it’s only a little sore.”

He let the guards help him off the ice with only mild protests, and they made their way back towards the castle, promising to return shortly.

~*~*~

Yuuri glanced over his shoulder to see Viktor seated on the edge of the bank, fiddling with his gloves for a moment before looking up. Viktor’s aquamarine eyes sparkled as they met his own, and Yuuri stopped abruptly on the ice, stumbling a bit over his blades. He flushed, laughing awkwardly and running a hand through his hair as he caught his balance. Lately, whenever they made eye contact, his mind went blank and he ended up embarrassing himself. 

Yuuri noticed Viktor’s nose had gone pink, and instantly dismissed the idea that it could be from anything other than the cold. He skated in slow circles around the creek, quiet but for the scrape of his blades against the ice.

Viktor broke the comfortable silence with a soft smile. “Yuuri, you know, you’re really a natural at this.”

He blushed, looking intently at his skates. “Thank you,” he replied, voice light. Viktor’s compliments were far from rare, but somehow they never failed to make his heart beat funny.

Yuuri gazed at Viktor after a second, thinking about how content he looked just watching him skate. He turned away, smiling to himself. Viktor’s words, his smile, just knowing he was watching made him feel weightless, revered, _beautiful._

He came out of his reverie when he saw a guard step out of one of the palace’s back doors, and begin to walk briskly on the ledge above the river. His hands were ungloved _(unusual for a guard,_ Yuuri thought), and his fingers twitched restlessly against his thighs.

Viktor squinted uncertainly at the guard, and got to his feet. “Hey, Yuuri, isn't that man an officer? Why is he doing a perimeter check?” 

Yuuri skated toward Viktor and glanced back at the man, who, surely enough, wore the deep blue uniform and shoulder straps of a ranking officer. “Yeah, he’s a colonel, I think I might’ve seen him in some meetings with my father lately. I don’t know why he’s out here, though.” 

They watched him curiously, silent but for the gale rushing over them. The guard turned and caught sight of them, and stared for a moment. He nimbly jumped from the ledge, landing on the ice with a resounding crack.

“I’m going to see if everything’s okay,” Yuuri said, turning back toward the man with concern in his eyes.

“Be careful, Yuuri,” he called softly, the wind whipping his words away.

He slowed to a stop a few feet from the man. “You’re Colonel Vasnetsov, right?” 

He nodded silently. 

“Uh, is something wrong?” Yuuri asked, moving back slightly as the colonel stepped toward him. 

The man was still for a split second, before his face contorted and his hand closed around the hilt of his sword. Yuuri’s scream stuck in his throat as the colonel lunged at him, sword in hand. He fell back as if in slow motion, limbs flailing in a desperate effort to save himself. The clash of metal against metal was the last thing he knew before his head crashed against the ice.

~*~*~

Viktor watched helplessly as Yuuri fell. His heart beat erratically against his ribs as he ran across the ice, thoughts moving faster than he could register. He threw himself forward as the man pulled his sword against the side of Yuuri’s blade, the harsh scraping noise filling his ears. 

He raised the weapon again, poised to strike. Before he even realized what happened, Viktor tackled him to the ground, locking eyes with him as the air rushed out of his lungs. They slid backwards, and he heard the sword skitter along the ice somewhere to his right. The colonel’s piercing eyes were covered by trembling lids, and Viktor pushed himself away as if burned, desperate to get back to Yuuri. 

Viktor was beside him in an instant, and dropped down beside his prone form. “Yuuri? Please, Yuuri, wake up, please,” he said frantically, wrapping him in his arms. “Oh God, please, please wake up.” He felt tears rolling down his face, but he barely registered anything other than the limp boy in his arms. 

“V-Viktor?” Yuuri’s voice came haltingly, softer than a whisper. “What- what happened?”

“Yuuri!” Relief flooded through him, and he held Yuuri tightly. “Oh God, I was so worried, are you okay?”

“S’all blurry,” he mumbled, pressing his face into Viktor’s shoulder. “And I feel so sleepy.”

Viktor pulled back, and stared in horror at the thin trickle of blood that rolled down the side of Yuuri’s neck, a shaky crimson line running from his dark hair to the soft fabric of his collar. “It’ll be okay, Yuuri, just keep your eyes on me, okay?” He tried to subdue the panic in his voice, but his shaking hands gave him away. 

“It’s not like I ever really look away,” he mumbled, brown eyes unfocused. 

Viktor felt his cheeks warm, but shook it off. There wasn’t time for that now. “Can you stand, Yuuri? We need to get you help.”

He stood, holding his hands out. Yuuri tentatively took one, but his grip faltered and he shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to push off the ice to no avail. 

“Hey, no, it’s okay,” he replied quietly, kneeling down beside him. “I can carry you.”

Yuuri’s eyes widened at something over his shoulder, and Viktor turned to see the colonel running toward his sword. 

He threw himself between Yuuri and the man instinctively. “Don’t fucking touch him,” he snarled, glaring into the icy blue eyes.

“That’s cute,” the colonel replied, spitting blood onto the ice and idly turning the blade over in his hands. “But you can’t save your little boyfriend, you servant. You see, it doesn’t matter to me if I have to kill you both.” 

Viktor stayed where he was, despite the way the blood rushed against his ears. 

“Fine,” he said simply, and raised his sword.

He shut his eyes, bracing himself-

“Master Yuuri!” Viktor’s eyes flew open, taking in the welcome sight of the two guards as he sank to his knees in relief. “There’s an uprising in the castle, we need to-”

They stopped, glancing over the scene and turning toward the man, blade still in hand. “Colonel Vasnetsov, what happened?”

He froze for a moment, but a smug look came over his face. “This boy tried to kill the prince! I was doing a perimeter check, and luckily I stopped him before he could finish the job.”

Viktor’s heart stopped. “N-no! That’s a lie, I would never hurt Yuuri-”

The two guards completely disregarded his pleas, and stood on either side of him, wrapping their arms under his and pulling him to his feet. He struggled vainly against the guards, frustrated tears welling in his eyes. 

The guards pulled Viktor roughly towards the castle, and one called back to the colonel. “Sir, can you escort the prince through the castle? We need to detain this servant, and it isn’t safe here.”

Viktor glanced over his shoulder, scowling as he watched the colonel grab Yuuri and bring him forcefully to his feet. 

They made their way to the back entry of the palace, and as the guards brought him through the entryway, the cacophony within the castle walls hit him full force.

Guards ran sporadically across the scene, either trying to calm the rioting or contribute, he couldn’t tell. Some joined the servants in grabbing everything in sight, the castle’s gold and silver disappearing as countless others lay wounded or worse. Viktor recoiled at the sight, hit with a pang of worry for Yurio and the czar. He pushed it away; he couldn't let his thoughts wander. He needed to act. He didn’t know what the colonel was capable of, or what he’d already done. 

Viktor was scared, for himself, but mostly for Yuuri. He wasn’t moving, and that evil man’s hands were pressed too tightly against him. 

In a fit of clarity, he took advantage of the overwhelmed state of the guards beside him, and let all his weight drop to the floor. One of the guards fell with him, causing the other to topple over them.

Viktor pushed them away, and rushed towards the colonel, knocking him back just enough for Yuuri's weight to send him stumbling.

Viktor quickly scooped Yuuri into his arms, high on adrenaline, and ran towards the castle entrance. He didn’t dare look back, even when he heard screams echoing faintly behind him.  
~*~*~

Viktor sprinted toward the doors, Yuuri barely stirring in his arms. The commotion outside was just as bad, servants and nobles alike trying to get away from the chaos. He searched vainly for a familiar face in the blur, and caught sight of Lord Chulanont leading his son toward an empty coach. 

“Please, sir, wait!” he called, panting. “The prince, he’s injured- Please, take him somewhere safe.”

He turned, squinting suspiciously at Viktor before his eyes widened in relief. “Viktor, thank God, I thought you were a revolutionary. It’s a lucky thing you found him before one of them did. I heard Prince Yuri only just made it past them.”

He sent his son inside the carriage, and moved to take Yuuri from his arms. Viktor almost couldn’t bring himself to let go, but he sighed and gently passed him to the man.

“Take care of him.” His voice came out uncharacteristically soft, almost strangled.

“Don’t worry, Viktor. We’ll keep him safe.”

He stood still despite the crowd rushing around him, watching as he laid Yuuri down inside the carriage, and took the horse’s reins. He gazed after them as they got smaller and smaller, and once he blinked, they were lost in the sea of coaches.

Even though he felt the tears dripping off his cheeks, he smiled slightly. Yuuri was going to be okay. He was safe, even if nothing else was. 

Eventually, some guards pulled him back to the castle, but it didn’t matter. Once they let him go, he’d find the Chulanonts, and he’d get back to Yuuri. 

He couldn’t have known that their carriage crashed in the outskirts of the city.

He couldn’t have known that once they woke up, the prince was nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alrighty guys that's the end of the prologue sorry it was kinda sad but its uphill from here ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ 
> 
> who's ready for the actual fic?! woooo!!!
> 
> also: [here's](http://www.ladylanternlight.tumblr.com/post/155963465866/i-made-a-sketch-of-viktor-from-my-yuri-on-ice) a cute happy viktor for your troubles 
> 
> kudos and reviews are lovely :D


	3. Six Years Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys so much for the nice comments!!
> 
> UPDATE: chapter 4 will be up on sunday the 5th as ladylanternlight and i were really busy!! hopefully after that we can go back to our usual update schedule!!

The train slowed to a halt, and when the doors opened, the buzz of the city filtered in. The two men stepped onto the platform, their dog following suit. Each carried an armload of flyers, reading _Are You the Lost Prince?_ in big lettering across the top, above a picture and audition information.

“I’m telling you, after we find our Yuuri, we’re all going to be rich. We just have to convince Mila that he’s the real thing, and the reward money’s as good as ours.”

Phichit sighed, and looked up at him. “Viktor, are you really sure about going through with all this? I mean, Yurio was your friend, wasn’t he? And-” _so was Yuuri,_ he began, before quickly shutting his mouth.

Viktor shuffled the posters in his hands, and kept his eyes straight ahead. “Yeah, he _was._ That was six years ago. Look, Yuuri’s gone. Nothing’s going to change that, and there’s no reason to keep living in the past. I did everything I could, and it still wasn’t enough to save him.” 

He took a breath, steadying himself, and looked at Phichit. “Yurio couldn’t move on, he wouldn’t even talk to me after that day. I know he still blames me for what happened. But, if he really thinks that throwing money around can bring Yuuri back, then why shouldn’t I take advantage of that?” 

“It’s just- is money really going to make you happy?”

“Phichit, I was a servant; I never really had anything. At least, nothing I can get back.” He paused, and sighed. “Trust me, money is the next best thing. You’ll get your title, though, so why does it matter?” His gaze fell to the paving stones underfoot, thin lines of snow separating them from each other.

“Because you’re my friend, and I worry about you.”

“Well, you don’t have to, really.” They stopped talking for a bit as they put up the posters around the city, quiet but for the jingling of Makkachin’s collar. 

After a few hours, they ran out of posters, and headed towards their final destination of the day. Phichit looked nervously at him. “Um, how are we supposed to use this as our base of operations? We can’t even get in.”

The old palace loomed overhead, the once elegant building abandoned, and faded to a shadow of its former self. “Follow me,” Viktor said quietly, slipping out of sight around a corner. He pulled at the planks on one of the boarded up floor length windows, which came off easily, and slipped inside.

~*~*~

“Goodbye everybody!” Yuuri called, a sad smile on his face as he stepped toward the gate. “I’ll come back to see you all soon, I promise.” 

The sun was dipping below the horizon, making the snow shine with streaks of gold. A few of his friends from the orphanage had come out to see him off one last time before he left for Paris. “Good luck!” Nishigori said, waving from next to Mari and Mr. Cialdini, the director of the orphanage. Yuuko ran up to him and hugged him, sniffling a little. “You’ll find them, Yuuri, I just know it.” 

“Thanks, Yuuko,” he replied, hugging her tightly. “I’m going to miss you guys a lot.”

After a few minutes, he slung his bag over his shoulder, and set out for the city’s docks. It was his last night of work before he left, and he would have just enough money for the train ticket to Paris. He’d been saving for a while, but he couldn’t help donating what meager amount he could back to the orphanage. Even though he hadn’t lived there for a couple years, it was still more of a home than his drafty apartment in the city.

His bag dug into his side as he walked, the dull blades of his skates pressing through the thin fabric. His skates were all he had from his past, the only clue he had to find his family. Engraved onto one of the blades was the word **_Paris,_** which seemed like a good enough place to start looking. Right above it was a strange looking gash that sheared across what might’ve been another etching. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t make it out. The gash had been there since before he could remember, maybe from an accident when he was younger? It hurt his head to try and think back that far.

Yuuri let his bag drop into his hand, and huffed out a breath as he stepped onto the dock. He left his things in the small locked box the night shift workers shared, and jogged over toward the sailors tying their ship to the port.

Yuuri bent his knees, effortlessly maneuvering a large crate of furs up onto his shoulder. This was a daily thing for him, and physical labor had become second nature to Yuuri; he had worked at Minako's dock for almost six years now. 

He always felt his body was a dead giveaway that he hadn’t had an easy life. His hands were calloused and rough, and a few scars ran up and down the ridges of his shoulders. Still, he never complained; he liked to keep busy and the docks had decent pay for the work.

He was grateful for his physicality when he skated, though. The muscles in his thighs helped him easily land complicated jumps, and he rarely felt tired, even after skating for hours.

When the sky started to brighten a bit, he looked over at the clock, and realized his shift had ended ten minutes ago. He loaded the last crate onto the ship, and went to get his bag. He waved to the other workers as he walked away from the dock, but stopped when he heard someone suddenly clear their throat behind him. 

He turned, apprehension melting away when he saw it was only Minako.

“Leaving without saying goodbye?” She smiled softly at him, pulling her coat tighter around herself. 

“N-no! I just…” he looked up sheepishly, only to see her laughing at him. 

“Don’t worry, I know you didn’t want to bother me, seeing as it’s the middle of the night and all. I just wanted to see you off one last time.” 

He smiled bashfully, fiddling with the strap of the bag in his hands.

“Do you have a few minutes before you have to go?” He nodded, following her back toward her house, just off the dock. 

Medals and other awards from dance competitions lined the walls. Photos of a younger Minako smiled down at him, along with the other dancers from her ballet. After the revolution, she bought the dock with the savings she had, and let Yuuri work despite his inexperience. 

When business was slow, she would skate with him around the nearby pond, and even helped him remember some of the techniques he’d forgotten after he lost his memories. Minako gave him the idea to search for his family in Paris; without her, he’d probably still be at the orphanage without any chance of finding them.

She handed him a warm cup of tea, and they chatted back and forth. After a half an hour passed, he stood, and was about to say goodbye when her eyes widened, and she raced out of the room.

He stared curiously after her for a moment, and she came back soon after, clutching an envelope in her hands.

“Here,” she said, holding it out to him. “It’s the least I can give you, after all your work here.”

He accepted it hesitantly, but pushed it back after seeing the bills stuffed inside. “I- I can’t take this, Miss Minako. It’s too-”

She folded his hands over it, and shook her head. “I want you to have it, Yuuri. Find your family, and don’t forget about me, okay?”

He smiled, and his voice was watery when he finally said goodbye.

~*~*~

The sun was just starting to peek through the tall buildings of St. Petersburg, its rays splashing across the cobbled streets. He walked past the scattered groups of people on his way to the station, enjoying the quiet of the early morning.

The winding streets took him past the run down palace. Yuuri absentmindedly ran a hand over the dilapidated limestone facade, and turned the corner into the alley, vaguely thinking that he could save a few minutes on his trip.

He noticed a flyer tacked hastily on the wall, with a picture of the missing Prince Yuuri. He’d gone missing in the attack on the palace before the revolution, and a few people thought he was still alive, even though there’d been no sign of him in years.

The prince couldn’t have been older than fourteen in the picture; under his glasses, his eyes were bright and his chubby face was crinkled in a smile. Messy bangs fell across his forehead, and he wore lavish clothes, adorned with fine embroidery and shiny buttons.

He looked down at his own ratty coat and oversized boots, and couldn’t help but laugh. _They really were only alike in name,_ he thought. His own bangs were pushed back, so they wouldn’t fall in his face when he worked. He’d never owned a pair of glasses that he could remember, despite his nearsightedness; they were far too expensive.

He smiled to himself as he walked past a poorly boarded up window, taller than he was, and peered inside at the darkened palace. He stepped back quickly, trying to shake off the weird feeling that came over him. He kept moving, but looked back over his shoulder every so often. 

He wasn’t really paying attention to anything other than the palace, so when he felt something heavy push at his chest, he let out a startled yelp and tripped backwards. 

The momentary panic wore off when he realized it was only a poodle. The dog woofed, tail wagging excitedly, and licked at his face.

He laughed, gently pushing the dog off his torso as he made to sit up. He patted the soft, coffee colored curls, looking around for his owner. The alley was empty, so he stood, brushing the dust and snow off his coat. The dog followed him as he glanced around the corner, jumping on his legs at every opportunity.

Eventually, he stopped, and squinted one last time, checking to see if anyone recognized the poodle. When he glanced back down, the dog was pulling at the corner of his scarf. 

“Hey, come on, that’s mine.” He bent down to get it back, but the poodle gently tugged him back toward the alley. He stared for a second, surprised, before hesitantly falling into step behind him.

The poodle stopped when they passed the boarded up window, and whined as he jumped up against it. Yuuri moved to pull him back, but noticed that the planks were shifting with the dog’s weight. 

He hummed curiously, and after checking that no one was around, tugged lightly at the boards. They came off almost effortlessly, and the poodle easily jumped inside. Yuuri was frozen for a moment, but smiled slightly, and followed him inside.

~*~*~

He pushed the tattered tarp overhead to the side, and crouched a bit to fit through the wide opening between the loose boards. 

Emerging inside the palace, Yuuri noticed it was in far better shape than he expected. It was blanketed with a thick layer of dust, and littered with broken furniture, but it had a certain charm that drew him in nonetheless. He ran his gloved hands over the covered furniture as he made his way down the corridor, footsteps echoing in the empty rooms. The dog was nowhere to be seen, so he took his time walking down the once elaborate hall.

He glanced at what remained of the decor: the elegant crown molding, the gold leaf curled in patterns across the walls. A faded painting of the former Japanese empress caught his eye, the canvas hardly damaged despite the years. She looked lovely, eyes twinkling and lips upturned in a smile. He couldn’t help but to smile back for a moment, before continuing down the corridor.

Yuuri barely even went exploring in the city, and having the rare surge of courage to actually break into the imperial palace caused a smirk to play at the corner of his mouth. Of course he was anxious about getting caught, but the amount of dust lying on every surface, even the tips of his gloves, reassured him that no one really checked inside the palace anymore. 

Yuuri turned a corner absentmindedly, thoughts racing faster than he could recognize, and bumped into a long table. He tripped back a bit, watching in horror as multiple trinkets were scattered onto the floor. Most of the items looked beyond repair, and he chastised himself for his own clumsiness. Yuuri dropped to his knees, assessing the damage, before his eyes caught on an ornate box. He picked up the small box; it seemed to have only been damaged a little. The screws from one of the hinges had been knocked loose, but it seemed fine otherwise. Yuuri opened it slowly, smoothing his hands over the faded designs while he glanced around for the screws.

A soft melody began to play, startling Yuuri just a bit in the silence of the deserted palace. Two little dancers spun around inside the box, and after a moment, he recognized the song. It was an old Italian duet that he’d loved when he lived in the orphanage; Mr. Cialdini used to sing along with the foreign words whenever it played on their radio.

It was familiar to him even back then, when very few things were. 

He wound the box a few more times, setting it back onto the table as he headed toward a grand staircase. Yuuri reached the ornate banister, marveling at the carving. He could hear the music almost perfectly; the music echoed perfectly in the empty corridors.

Yuuri felt odd; he didn’t know why, but as he descended down the staircase, he had the strangest feeling he’d been here before. Walking out in the middle of the marble ballroom floor, he could almost swear that he was being led by hand.

_bright blue eyes_

_a teasing smile_

_billowing silver hair_

Memories flashed in front of his eyes; the music was louder now and Yuuri heard the melody swell, strings and winds enhancing the music box’s gentle tune. 

Yuuri gave into the feeling and let his body move on its own, eyes closing as he twirled and spun to the music, dancing across the empty ballroom. 

He gave himself to the music, yearning know what this all meant, because he felt like he had danced here before, like this was something he could _almost remember…_

“Hey! Who are you, and what are you doing here?!”

The voice pulled him out of his serenity, and the memories almost within his grasp slipped away, drifting out of sight like the dust still swirling from his dance. It took him a minute to come back to reality; he glanced up blearily to see a figure rushing towards him.

Blinking, he couldn’t see if the man wore the dark uniform of the police; he hardly took him in before he instinctively stepped back, and started to run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [here's the art of yuuri from the flyers!!](http://www.ladylanternlight.tumblr.com/post/161607844711/arts-i-made-for-the-anastasia-au-i-am-writing-with)


	4. Meeting Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY ABOUT THE HIATUS EVERYONE 
> 
> but at long last, chapter four is done!!

“Hey! Who are you, and what are you doing here?!” Viktor walked quickly down the stairs, Phichit close behind him. 

The man looked up in a daze, wide brown eyes blinking up at him before he seemed to come to his senses. He stepped backwards once, twice, and started to run, searching wildly for an exit.

“No, wait! Stop, I just-” He sighed, and ran after him. “I just want to know why you’re here,” he huffed, sighing in relief when the man finally stopped at the top of the grand staircase. 

“Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone was here…” He turned around, and Viktor blanched. The man looked at him expectantly, and the words froze on Viktor’s lips. _He looks so much like..._

“What is it?” the man said, crossing his arms and glancing back and forth between Viktor and Phichit. Viktor cleared his throat, and pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind.

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just-”

“Hey, what’s your name?” Phichit interrupted.

“Um, Yuuri?” he responded, fidgeting a little. 

“Seriously?” His eyes went wide, and he pulled Viktor aside, telling Yuuri with a bright smile that they’d only be a minute.

“Viktor, this is perfect! He looks just like the prince, they have the same name...” Phichit nudged him expectantly. 

“We don't even know why he’s here, or anything about him, Phichit,” he replied, a little apprehensive. “I don’t know if we should trust him.”

“Oh, come on. Go over there and work your charm, I’ve got a good feeling about him.” 

Viktor looked back over at Yuuri, who was crouched down, petting Makkachin affectionately.

His chest felt tight for a second, but he shook it off, and held a hand out for him to take. It was only a handshake, but Viktor felt a bit nervous at Yuuri’s touch. 

_Sure, he’s cute, but this really isn’t the time._

He scolded himself silently as Yuuri put his hand in his. 

“Um…” Yuuri smiled awkwardly, shifting his glance from Viktor’s face to their clasped hands. Viktor let go quickly with an apologetic smile; the handshake had lasted just a moment too long.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Yuuri. My name is Viktor, and that’s Phichit.” 

Yuuri nodded slowly, looking like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. “So, Viktor, what are you two doing in the palace?”

Viktor’s mind raced for an easy lie, anything other than the truth: that they were only there to find something to help prove they’d found the prince. He settled on a half truth: “Well, we’re here on royal business. Phichit and I are on a mission to find something very important.” He gave his words a grandiose flourish, keeping them vague enough that they could fill Yuuri in later, if they had to.

“Oh, really?” Yuuri sounded impressed, but looked them both up and down with a skeptical eye nonetheless. 

“Yep,” Phichit chimed in, attention mostly on the papers in his hands. “So, Yuuri, enough about us. How come you’re here?” He glanced up for a moment, eyes following Makkachin as the poodle trotted over to Yuuri.

“Well, I was on my way to the station, and I just followed this dog here,” Yuuri said, stifling a laugh and trying to fight off kisses from the excited poodle.

“Makkachin is pretty adventurous.” Viktor patted Makkachin’s head softly once he bounded back over to him.

“Makkachin, huh?” Yuuri said softly, brows furrowing as he stood up.

“Yeah.” He smiled amusedly at his dog and looking back up at the man. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, don’t worry,” he said quickly, with a reassuring smile. “It’s a nice name, that’s all.”

“So you're heading to the station, right? Where are you going from there?” Viktor inquired, trying to get the conversation back on track, and definitely not noticing how nice Yuuri looked when he smiled.

Yuuri seemed hesitant for a moment, but shook it off. “Paris.”

“Oh, the City of Love, huh? How come you're going there?” Viktor said, trying to keep his surprise at the coincidence out of his voice: Mila and Yurio both lived in Paris. 

“Well, uh, I’m trying to find my family.” Yuuri set his gaze on the faded carpet underfoot. “I can't remember a lot from… well, anything from before the revolution, really. But I had one clue, so I saved enough money for the train ticket, and here I am.” 

At this point, Viktor noticed Phichit frantically trying to catch his eye, and sighed. “Okay, fine, Phichit. Yuuri, have you heard the rumors about the lost prince?”

Yuuri nodded, a confused look on his face. “Yes? Everyone talks about him lately.”

Phichit tossed an arm over his shoulders. “See, Yuuri, here’s what we want to do. We’re trying to find the lost prince, and reunite him with Prince Yuri in Paris! So, I mean… meeting you here, it can’t be a coincidence. You look exactly like Prince Yuuri, you have the same name… you can’t remember who you were before the revolution, so who’s to say you aren’t the prince?” Phichit looked at him expectantly, a hopeful smile on his lips.

Yuuri stared at him for a second, eyes wide, and started laughing behind his hand. “I’m sorry, me? A prince? Guys, I’m an orphan. I live in a drafty little apartment, I work on the docks every night… I think you should keep looking.”

“Yuuri, please? You could be wasting your only chance to find your family, there's only a handful of people as close to Prince Yuri as we are. And if you're not the lost prince, we can still help you find your family. Viktor speaks French, and I speak English, so you'd have a better chance of finding them with our help.” He stopped for a minute, stepped back, and grinned. “Not to mention, we have an extra ticket, so you can save your money for when we actually get to Paris.”

Yuuri cocked his head in consideration, and after a second, he nodded. 

“Okay. I’ll come with you, just as long as you promise to help me find my family.”

“Of course we’ll help you, Yuuri.” Viktor smiled softly at him, sincerity in his eyes. 

He sighed, reassured, and nodded again, mostly to himself. 

“Well, Your Highness, it’s wonderful to see you again.” Viktor took his hand, and pressed his lips gently against the warm skin, ignoring the bitter feeling that came over him whenever he thought about his lost prince, and the new feeling he couldn’t quite identify.

A blush spread across Yuuri’s face; even the tips of his ears went pink.

Viktor stepped back, running a hand quickly through his hair, and hastily turned toward Phichit. “When does our train leave again?”

~*~*~

The train was surprisingly empty, so they had no trouble finding an open compartment. The sun was setting outside the station, casting a hazy orange glow over St. Petersburg. 

Yuuri stared quietly out the window, and a strange pang hit him when he realized he might never see the city again. He wrapped his arms tighter around his bag, and sighed. He didn’t realize that leaving his home would feel so… _final._

 _I’ll come back someday,_ he thought, wistfully watching the buildings shrink on the horizon. _Once I find my family, I can always come back._

Yuuko, Minako, Mari, Nishigori… they were his family too, even if it wasn’t by blood.

He curled a little more into the worn leather of his seat, eventually letting the muffled conversations and gentle rocking of the train lull him to sleep. 

~*~*~

Phichit glanced over at Yuuri, slumped against the window and snoring softly. “He really looks a lot like the prince, doesn’t he?”

Viktor looked over at his sleeping form, and quickly looked back out the window. “Yeah, more than any of the actors, at least.” He thought for a second, and continued quietly, “It’s going to be hard to teach him everything, though. We only have two months. What if it isn’t enough to convince Mila?”

“Of course it’ll be enough, you’re worrying too much. For one, he looks exactly like him, and no one knew Yuuri better than you; you know more than enough to convince her. I’m sure you’ll be a great teacher. Even if it doesn’t work out, _which it will,_ it’s not like he knows about our plan, right? We won’t lose anything by trying.”

Viktor tipped his head back against his seat with a sigh. “I hope you’re right.”

Just then, the train hit a bump, and the whole compartment shook. Yuuri opened his eyes groggily, but Phichit and Viktor didn’t seem to notice. They were talking quietly, and he let his eyes drift shut so as to get some more sleep.

Still, he couldn’t help but overhear their conversation. He heard the seat creak across from him, like someone was shifting, and Phichit cleared his throat. 

“Are you okay, Viktor?” His words were soft, but Yuuri could still hear the concern in his voice. 

The compartment was quiet for a moment, save for the rumble of the train. Eventually, Viktor answered him. “Yuuri’s been gone for a long time, Phichit. I- I’m okay. I’ve moved on.” 

Phichit sighed. “I know. I just- I know how hard this is for you, even though you say it’s fine. You loved him, but that doesn’t mean you can’t love anyone else, okay?” His voice was gentle, with a hopeful lilt. 

Viktor didn’t answer, and Yuuri tried to understand what he just heard. _Viktor and the prince were in love?_ He knew there was more to these people than they’d let on, but he wasn’t sure what exactly. But now… he understood why it was so important for those two to search for the prince. Even though it’d been years, Viktor hadn’t really given up on him. 

A warm feeling rose in his chest, and he smiled slightly, careful not to let them know he was awake. After a few minutes, he yawned exaggeratedly, telling Viktor and Phichit that he was going to take a walk. 

~*~*~

Christophe fidgeted in his seat, his stiff uniform uncomfortable after the long day. 

He was only stationed a few miles from the command center, so the train ride was blissfully short. His shift was almost over; he just had to report back to General Vasnetsov and he could go home. 

The General was respected by everyone; even the Prince regent trusted him. He’d helped to rescue some of the royal family on the day of the siege, and was widely regarded as a hero. 

He worked with Chris occasionally, and was one of the reasons he’d decided to stay on as a guard, even after most of the force quit during the revolution. He had barely been sixteen when the revolution started, but General Vasnetsov had taken him under his wing, along with a few other recruits.

He sighed, and opened the compartment’s door. He needed to stretch his legs, and he was getting tired just sitting there. 

Chris paced along the train’s narrow hall, looking over any strangers that caught his eye. He noticed a man with a pretty face and silvery hair, but kept moving when he saw how he looked at the dark haired man beside him.

He kept walking until the conductor announced his stop was next, and headed toward his car. On his way back, he bumped into someone in the small corridor. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir!” The man smiled anxiously, and scrambled to grab the contents of the bag he’d dropped. 

“Here, let me help.” Chris glanced at the man as he handed him his scattered belongings. He looked almost… familiar? He couldn’t place where he knew him from, maybe a bar or somewhere like that. He scanned the ground again, and looked up to see the man gently setting a well-worn ice skate in his bag. 

“So you’re a skater, huh? You any good?” he asked, smiling coyly at the man at they got back to their feet.

The man stepped back a bit, eyes wide. “Um! I- I mean-” 

“Yuuri! There you are!” The silver haired man from before walked quickly toward them, smiling brightly at his companion. He turned toward Chris, with an apologetic smile that didn’t match the wary look in his eyes. “Sorry to interrupt, sir, but we need to get back to our compartment.”

“Maybe I’ll see you two around sometime,” he said, giving a noncommittal wave before heading back to his compartment.

~*~*~

He didn’t think anything of the men on the train until he’d gotten to the center. He was telling another guard about Yuuri the skater when he stopped mid-sentence. 

“Huh. I didn’t realize, but what a coincidence, right? He’s just like the lost prince.” He laughed, and headed toward the door when he was stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder.

He turned, quirking an eyebrow, but relaxed when he saw it was only the General. “Did you need something, sir?”

His face was set in an unreadable expression, deep lines making him look years older than he was. “What were you saying about Prince Yuuri?” His eyes had an almost manic glare. 

“Oh, nothing, sir. Just that I saw a man named Yuuri on the train today, and he had a pair of ice skates in his bag. He was cute, too, but he was with somebody.” He sighed, and kept walking. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard for me to find a boyfriend if I had pretty silver hair, too.” 

Chris turned to leave, and the General’s eyes went wide in realization, and his knuckles went white.


	5. Etiquette and Poise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LONG TIME NO POST but here's the next chapter!! both of us have been crazy busy with work and school but we're already planning out the next few chapters so hopefully they're up sooner! 
> 
> thank you for reading, and enjoy the chapter!!

A few days passed; they spent their nights in cheap hotels and boarded the train again the next morning. They got off at the end of the line in Poland, and bought tickets for the next train to Germany. They would be in Poland for a week, but Phichit assured him that it would be fine; Viktor and him had been here once before on business.

They walked down the cobblestone streets, the sharp wind picking up now and again. Phichit and Viktor talked quietly, but Yuuri kept to himself, still letting it sink in that he had finally left home. 

They wove through the town, and Phichit walked ahead with Makkachin as he pointed out familiar places he remembered from before. “Didn’t we stay in that hotel once, Viktor? Or was it that one?”

Viktor shrugged, and his worn scarf slipped over his shoulder. He had a kind of faraway look in his eyes, and the wind mussed his hair.

They settled into a comfortable quiet again, until Phichit grinned, stretching his arms behind his head.

“God, I can’t wait to see Mila again. It’s been almost a whole year!”

“Mila? Is she one of your friends from Paris?” Yuuri didn’t notice how Viktor covered his face with his hand, and apparently, Phichit didn’t either.

“Oh, yeah! We grew up together; she was one of the nobles’ daughters. And whenever I’m in Paris, she always forces me to help interview all the princes-” He clapped a hand over his mouth, and Viktor sighed.

“Princes? But…” Yuuri’s brows knit together, and he felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. “You mean… she interviews people who say they’re the prince?” 

Phichit cringed outwardly, and nodded.

“So, I have to prove that I’m the prince, that’s what you’re saying?” Yuuri’s voice came out angrier than he expected it to, but he kept going. “I have to lie, just so I can meet someone who’s not even my family, and make him feel even worse?” 

Phichit and Viktor stood in stunned silence, and Yuuri glared at them as best as he could before running off.

He didn’t get very far, since he didn’t really know where he was going. When his sides started to burn, he slowed to a walk by a patch of cobblestone overlooking a lake. He sighed and sat on the ledge, pulling his knees up to his chin. 

Yuuri let his breathing level out in the quiet afternoon; the only sounds were the roll of the icy waves and the calling birds. A few flowers were starting to bloom early in the cracks of the cobblestone, soft pinks and white petals swaying in the wind.

He sat there for a while, his arms wrapped around his knees, just thinking. Eventually, a reflected face joined his in the ripples, and he looked over at Phichit.

“So, what do you two want from me? There's no way I can convince Mila; I can barely remember anything about my life. Learning a past that probably isn't even mine… it all just seems like one big lie.”

Phichit was quiet, and took a deep breath. 

“Yuuri, look. Meeting with Mila… I know we didn’t tell you before, but I swear, this is the only way to talk to Yurio. She’s the only one he trusts, and if you are the prince… are you really willing to give up, just because there’s one more obstacle in the way?” 

Yuuri was quiet, and looked back down, watching the waves gently lap at the cobblestones.

“Please, just don’t give up yet, Yuuri. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you before, but if you leave now, you’ll never know, and you might not get another chance.” His voice was surprisingly sincere, and after a moment, he stood up. 

“Honestly, you remind me more of the prince than anyone else I’ve ever met.”

As he walked away, Yuuri bit his lip, and called quietly, “I’ll do it.” 

Phichit turned around, a wide grin on his face. “I knew you would. Come on, do you want to head back?”

He nodded, and pushed off of the ground.

~*~*~

“Is everything okay? What were you two talking about?” Viktor turned toward them as they walked back to him.

“Everything’s fine, don’t worry. I was just saying that we need to teach Yuuri a few things about being royalty.” 

“So, um, how much do I need to learn, exactly?” Yuuri fiddled with his gloves, hoping his smile didn’t seem as nervous as he felt.

Viktor grinned and threw his arm over Yuuri, pulling him tight against his side. “Don't worry, Your Majesty, just leave it to us.” 

Yuuri felt his chest tighten at the proximity. Viktor’s eyes were soft as he smiled at him, and he couldn’t help but smile shyly back.

 _He’s beautiful,_ Yuuri thought, and felt his cheeks start to warm.

They stayed like that for a moment, until Yuuri stepped away before Viktor could notice his blush. (Of course, not quick enough to make Viktor think the advance was unwelcome.)

They smiled awkwardly, and Viktor ran a hand through his hair while Yuuri cleared his throat.

Phichit grinned, and pulled a heavy looking book out of his bag. “So, where should we start?” 

~*~*~

The next week passed in a blink. They started teaching him from the etiquette and history books they’d brought, and he tried to study them before he went to sleep. The chill from the February wind seeped into their cheap hotel room, but at least it was less drafty than his apartment back home. 

He felt a bit sad remembering his old home, but it only made him more determined to learn; once he had everything memorized, he would meet Mila, and he’d find his family, royal or not.

Between Viktor’s praise and Phichit’s approving grins, he figured he was making good progress, but he knew there was still a long way to go. 

Every day, they walked through the quiet town, and tried to teach Yuuri everything they could. They went through dozens of books on decorum and lineage, but he knew there was still more to learn.

He crammed so much information about royal life into his head that he almost believed there was a chance it could be possible: that he really might be the prince. Even if it was almost impossible, he couldn’t help but wonder.

At the end of the week, they took the short walk to the station, and boarded the train to Germany. The next few nights passed uneventfully; they focused mostly on Yuuri’s studies. 

They would be staying in Germany for two weeks, and after that, they'd take a ferry, and finally reach Paris. 

A taxi picked them up from the station; their hotel was almost half a day away by car. Yuuri sat quietly in the back seat next to Viktor. He tried to remember all the details on etiquette: what fork to use for salad, what comes first in a high tea… 

Phichit sat in the front, talking amicably with the driver. The taxi was a tight fit with all of them (and Makkachin), but as they got closer to the hotel, Yuuri found that he didn’t mind as much.

He was excited to sleep in an actual comfortable bed again: not the cracked seats of loud train cars or the mattress in Poland that left his body sore each morning. According to Phichit, this hotel was much nicer than the inn, and even had a small river running around it. 

If he was lucky, he could get away from lessons long enough to skate for a while. He hadn’t had time over the last two weeks, and he didn’t know how much longer the ice would last for. 

Yuuri sighed, settling into the seat, and Viktor took the opportunity to rest his head on his shoulder. 

_He must be exhausted,_ Yuuri thought.

He looked at Viktor’s sleeping face, and noticed that his bangs had fallen out of place. He reached out, like it was second nature, and gently tucked them behind his ear. 

Viktor’s eyelids twitched, and Yuuri flinched, scooting away just in case he woke up. Luckily, he only shifted a bit, and Yuuri let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

About an hour later, they finally reached the hotel. Yuuri opened his eyes, yawning quietly as his gaze fell to Viktor’s peaceful face. He had to wake him up, but he didn't want to: having him close like this made him feel safe and calm, despite everything that had changed over the last few weeks.

“Viktor,” he said, shaking him gently. “We’re here.” 

Viktor mumbled something in his sleep as his eyelids fluttered open, and Yuuri felt his heart race, if only for a second. He pushed it away and gently shifted Viktor’s head off his shoulder. After all the work he did, he couldn't mess up now. He couldn’t let his feelings get in the way of finding his family.

Still, as Viktor smiled softly at him, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling back.

~*~*~

Phichit checked them into the hotel, and after a hurried conversation with the receptionist, handed them their keys as they headed up the stairs. “So, Viktor and I’ll take the room with two beds, and you can have the single one.”

He nodded, and Phichit pointed down the hall. “Your room’s over there. Make sure you get enough sleep, by the way. We’re starting another lesson tomorrow.”

Yuuri glanced at the familiar books peeking out his bag, and frowned. “But… haven’t we covered everything?” 

Phichit looked at Viktor, then back to him, and smirked. “Dance lessons, Yuuri.”

He smothered a giggle as Yuuri blushed, and fixed his eyes on the ground. 

Once he settled into bed, Yuuri stared at the beautiful crown molding on the edges of the room. He was having a hard time falling asleep, and his thoughts drifted from his prince lessons to Viktor: particularly, dancing with him tomorrow. 

Yuuri and Viktor were definitely becoming more comfortable around each other; Viktor would wrap him in an embrace whenever Yuuri remembered a particularly difficult nuance of etiquette, or if he could remember the intricate details of the royal family without any help, and Viktor seemed to almost go out of his way to sleep on Yuuri's shoulder in the quiet train cars or busses they’d taken so far.

Dancing gave him an excuse to be close with Viktor, something his anxiety held him back from normally. His mind wandered; he thought of dancing with Viktor, his hands resting on Viktor’s waist as they moved together. He thought of dipping Viktor, and hearing his winded breath as Yuuri raised him up, slowly pulling him closer.

With Viktor pressed up against his chest, his hand placed delicately on Yuuri’s shoulder, they were almost embracing. Those stunning blue eyes burned away any doubt or reservations Yuuri had in him as he closed the gap between them… 

Yuuri felt his cheeks flush at the thought of what dancing with Viktor could lead to. Suddenly, a wave of anxiety quickly washed over him and pulled him out of his fantasy; the exciting idea of dance lessons with Viktor started to overwhelm him.

He started to feel more flustered, thinking about all the ways he could ruin everything. Yuuri shifted in his bed, pulling his knees to his chest and taking deep breaths. He stayed like that, running every scenario in his head before exhaustion finally set in, and he drifted off to a restless sleep.

~*~*~

Yuuri woke up later than he had all week; early afternoon sunlight streamed in around the edges of the curtains. He took his time getting dressed, and left his room half and hour later.

A few business people were standing in the hall, and their fine suits made Yuuri glance embarrassedly at his ratty coat. He hurried past them, and tried vainly to remember Viktor and Phichit’s room number. 

Luckily, he spotted them in the lobby, and rushed down the stairs to meet them. Phichit turned at the sound of his footsteps, and waved at him.

“Well, sleeping beauty, I almost thought we’d have to leave without you.” Viktor smiled teasingly at him once he caught up to them. 

“It's not even that late,” he complained, walking next to them as they left the hotel. 

They found somewhere to eat, and managed to order their food in broken German. 

“So, I talked to the front desk yesterday, and we're allowed to use the ballroom for the next few days. Apparently, they're having a gala next week, and I think it’d be a good place for you to practice everything you’ve learned. You know, like a test to make sure you’re ready to meet Mila.” Phichit sipped at his drink, and visibly gagged. “Viktor, let me order next time, okay?”

~*~*~

The hotel’s ballroom was more elegant than he’d expected; sunlight caught in the sparkling chandelier and spots of light danced around the ornate room. The marble floor was freshly polished; the staff had probably been preparing for the gala before they arrived. Someone had wheeled the grand piano into a corner, and hastily covered it with a canvas tarp. 

“Here, this’ll work,” Phichit said, walking over to the gramophone and thumbing through the vinyls. He hummed as he looked over the titles, and took a few off the shelves. Makkachin padded behind him, watching him inquisitively.

Viktor crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “Phichit, I really don’t think-” 

“What? Sorry, can’t hear you,” he said absently, fitting the needle over one of the records. The static cleared after a second, and a soft violin waltz filled the room. Phichit plopped into a chair, and started directing them.

“Okay, Viktor, you lead; just let him get used to the movement. It’s probably not a good idea to switch until he has a little more experience. Yuuri, just watch his feet and follow his steps.” He counted off, and waved them on.

Yuuri smiled hesitantly as Viktor took his hand, and rested his hand on Viktor’s shoulder as he wrapped an arm gently around his waist. 

Viktor counted under his breath, and guided them to the rhythm of the song. He kept his eyes on their feet, and his hair fell over his face. 

Yuuri kept his steps small, trying vainly not to trip over his feet. He winced as he stepped in the wrong direction, and stumbled back to match Viktor’s steps. His nerves were bad enough from being this close to Viktor, and trying to keep the pace of the song only made it worse.

The song ended after a few minutes, and Phichit switched the record; it was something a bit faster, and Yuuri cringed. He could hardly keep up with the slow song; how was he supposed to do this?

“Um, Viktor, I don’t-” 

“Yuuri, I don’t really know how to dance either.” Viktor smiled haphazardly, and squeezed his hand.

Viktor moved his feet quicker and Yuuri did his best to keep to the new rhythm. After a bit, he started to feel more comfortable, and more confident in his movements.

“I’m impressed, Yuuri. I think you should try and take the lead.” Viktor winked at him, and Yuuri fought back a blush. He did his best to lead him around the dance floor; it was clumsy, but he was enjoying himself. 

Yuuri had his eyes fixated on Viktor, and smiled at how he let the music move through him. He really was breathtaking.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Yuuri said softly, his mouth betraying him.

Viktor looked up at Yuuri and smiled. Yuuri was sure he could see the embarrassment in his face, but Viktor didn't seem to mind the comment; if anything, he danced with more poise than before.

The late afternoon light filtered into the room as the sun started to set. They danced to a few more songs, to the point where Yuuri was able to keep up a full conversation without trodding on Viktor’s toes once. When the music faded, he was surprised to find that he actually missed it. 

Phichit played one last song, mumbling about something he’d forgotten as he walked out with Makkachin. Viktor took the lead again, and Yuuri slipped back into the familiar position. 

The quiet notes of the music seemed almost familiar, but he couldn’t place it. Yuuri tried to remember if he’d heard it somewhere before, but Viktor suddenly twirled him out, and his mind went blank. He couldn’t help but smile as Viktor pulled him back, and he reveled in their embrace for a moment.

“You know, you’re a natural at this, Yuuri.” Viktor seemed more relaxed now, more confident in his movements.

“Thanks.” Yuuri grinned, pressing closer in a rare show of bravery.

Viktor quickened their pace to match the tempo as the music swelled. He guided Yuuri forward, nudging him gently with the hand at the small of his back. Yuuri tried to ignore the shivers, and followed his lead. 

The song drew to a close, and Yuuri grinned proudly. “You know, I think I- wait, Viktor!”

Viktor caught him in a low dip, and grinned back. Their breaths were heavy in the quiet ballroom, but neither of them seemed bothered.

Viktor broke the silence first. “Dancing might not be so bad, as long as I’m with you.”

The heat that rose to Yuuri’s cheeks had nothing to do with the exercise. Viktor smiled softly, and the words were out before he could stop them. “Nothing’s that bad when I’m with you.”

His eyes opened wider for a second, and Yuuri suddenly became hyperaware of every detail: the freckles dotting his nose, the press of his hand on his lower back, the way his eyes sparkled in the light… 

They were impossibly close, and Yuuri felt his eyes start to close when a sharp pain went through his head. He flinched back, and tried to ignore the guilt when he saw Viktor’s hurt expression. Something about this, about _him_ seemed so familiar…

“I’m sorry, I- I have to go.” He stumbled backwards, and ran back to his room. Mind numb, he grabbed his skates, and walked to the edge of one of the river’s frozen pools. 

~*~*~

Viktor opened his door wordlessly, and collapsed on his bed. Phichit quirked an eyebrow, and Makkachin sat in front of him, looking at him curiously. 

“So, how’d it go? Does he pass for a prince?” Phichit walked over to him, and pulled up a chair with a smirk. “Or did something else happen? I’ve seen the way you look at him, and if he makes you happy, you’ve got my blessing, or whatever.”

Viktor didn’t answer, and he stood up, walking closer. “Viktor? Hello? Are you okay?” 

“Look, it’s nothing. He’s perfect; there’s no way Mila would think he’s not the real thing.” He laid back sideways across the bed, and sighed. “It’s just- a little strange, that’s all. I mean, I know he isn’t Yuuri, but I- nevermind.”

Phichit quirked a brow, and Viktor turned away.

His gaze fell onto the bag that held his skates, and his eyes widened in realization. “Oh, no.”

“What?”

He stood up, gingerly picked up his bag, and tossed it to Phichit. “We forgot to teach him to skate.”

Phichit sighed, and collapsed back onto the chair. He ran a hand through his hair, and tapped his foot nervously against the floor. “Oh, God. I can’t believe we forgot. What are we going to do? Mila’s going to see right through this whole thing if he can’t skate.” 

“I- I don’t know. Maybe we can show him the basics? We don’t have enough time to teach him everything.” Viktor started to pace, and Phichit followed him, setting the bag down on the chair. 

“Viktor, are you sure you’d be okay with that? You hardly ever go on the ice anymore, and- well, I know why. It’s okay if you can’t, we can figure something else out-”

“I don’t know, okay?” He walked over by the window, and looked for an answer in the quiet skyline. “I- wait, hold on. Is- is that-”

“What?” Phichit pushed the curtains further aside, and his eyes widened. “Oh my God, there’s no way-”

Yuuri danced across the ice far below, launching himself into jumps and touching back down almost effortlessly. He skated gracefully in the darkness, smiling to himself as his blades glided quietly over the ice.

“I can’t- I don’t believe it,” Viktor said in quiet amazement. “How did he…” 

“He really is perfect, isn’t he,” Phichit mused, watching Yuuri turn swiftly across the ice.

Viktor glanced from his skates back to Yuuri, smiling softly in spite of himself. ”Yeah, he is.”

~*~*~

A few days passed, and if Phichit had noticed the tension between them, he didn't let on. Yuuri didn't know what to say to Viktor; he didn’t know how to fix the mess he’d made. Neither of them could find the words, and so they would sit in uncomfortable silence whenever they were together. 

Viktor left for the town one day to buy more presentable clothes for them, so Phichit and Yuuri stayed behind. Makkachin was curled up on Viktor’s bed, affectionately pawing at Yuuri as he flipped through a book.

Phichit and him made idle conversation, mostly focusing on aspects of Yuuri’s studies. An hour went by before Yuuri set down his book, and looked around the room. Their belongings were spread around haphazardly; bags and books littered the room. 

“Hey, what- what’s in there?” Yuuri pointed at the half-opened bag on the chair, one he hadn't noticed before. 

“Oh, that? Those are Viktor’s skates; he's had them for years.” 

Yuuri walked over to them, and gently lifted one out. The boot looked almost new, all shiny black leather, and dark laces. He trailed a hand over the perfect seams, and turned the skate over in his hands. 

“These must have cost a fortune,” he breathed, glancing at the golden blade. It had rusted a bit from the disuse, but the detailing was mostly intact. An ornate crest was carved above a swath of rust, an intricate rendition of the imperial eagle.

“Well, yeah. These were a gift from the Czar, before the revolution.” Phichit set his book down, and scooted closer to him. “Viktor used to skate every day with the prince; they were best friends. After the revolution… he wasn’t the same. He couldn’t move on.” He sighed, and glanced out the window. “I haven’t seen him on the ice since.”

“That’s terrible,” Yuuri said quietly, looking up and absentmindedly trailing a finger over the flat of the blade. “I didn’t know they were so close.”

“Honestly, Viktor was- well, it doesn’t really matter now. It’s been a long time, and he’s been through enough. He’s my friend, and I don’t want to see him hurt like that again.”

Their eyes met, and Yuuri realized they weren’t talking about the prince anymore.

Yuuri took a deep breath. “Phichit, I-”

“Yuuri, look, I know there’s something between you two; I’m not stupid.” He stopped, and fiddled with his book as he continued. “I just- you’re my friend, but Viktor is too, and after you guys danced, something changed. I want you both to be happy, but you might have to take the first step. Viktor’s not as strong as he pretends to be, and I think you know that too.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I’m just- scared, I guess. I’ve never really been in a serious relationship, and I- I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

“Just promise me you’ll talk to him about this, okay? Not talking to you has been driving him crazy; I can tell.”

“I will,” Yuuri said, and Phichit gave him a relieved smile. 

“Good. I hope it works out.” 

That night, Yuuri tried to sleep, but his head ached. After his conversation with Phichit, his mind kept straying back to Viktor and the prince. Viktor had loved him, he knew that, but what did this mean for them now? Was he really willing to move on, and with Yuuri, of all people? 

Makkachin whined as he pulled the blankets tighter around himself, and turned back and forth before drifting into fitful sleep. Dreams flew past him, until one came into focus. It seemed almost familiar, like a memory he knew he didn’t have.

_(Someone poked at his side, and he turned to see a grinning blonde boy, probably about eleven or twelve.)_

Yuuri pushed his blankets off, the cold doing nothing to shock him awake. He padded unsteadily towards his door, accidentally waking up Makkachin as he did.

_(The boy ran down a long hallway, hair flying, and Yuuri laughed as he tried to catch him.)_

He turned the handle, and kept walking, leaving the door open behind him. 

_(He was outside, and he raced down the steps, following the snowy footprints to their frozen pond.)_

Yuuri tripped down a few stairs, and regained his footing in the darkened lobby. The staff had gone for the night, and he reached the front doors. The cold air washed over him, but he kept going, stepping easily through the snow. 

~*~*~

Viktor pulled the covers up over his head, trying vainly to beat his insomnia. Before he met Yuuri, before they made this stupid plan, he’d been so sure of everything. 

Now, nothing made sense: he had fallen for Yuuri, even though he thought it’d be impossible. After the revolution, he’d sworn off serious relationships, but now… 

He shook his head, trying to push the thought down. Yuuri couldn’t feel that way about him; even if it seemed like he had when they danced, he pulled back in the last second before Viktor kissed him. 

Viktor sighed, and propped himself up a bit, absently running a finger across his bottom lip. Suddenly, the quiet was punctured by a loud scratching at the door, followed by Makkachin’s bark. 

He pushed the covers off, brows furrowed in confusion as he stood up. He opened the door to a surprisingly quiet Makkachin, and knelt down to pat his head. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Yuuri?” he murmured, looking out into the hallway. 

“Come on, let’s go find him.” He started the short walk to Yuuri’s room, Makkachin following at his heels. The hotel was darkened, and luckily, Makkachin’s crying hadn’t woken anyone up. 

Once they got close to Yuuri’s room, Makkachin ran in front of him. Viktor jogged after him, but froze when he saw the door. 

Yuuri’s door was wide open, and moonlight spilled into the hallway from the uncovered window. Makkachin was sitting by the window, whining as Viktor walked cautiously into the room. 

Yuuri was gone, but that didn’t mean anything. He had probably only gone for a walk, and forgot to close the door behind him. Viktor walked over to Makkachin, and petted him gently to calm him down. 

The lights from the town sparkled dimly in the distance, and the full moon illuminated the hotel’s quiet courtyard. He gazed down at the trees, at the frozen pond-

His eyes went wide, and he rubbed at them furiously before looking again. A figure was moving unsteadily towards the ice, walking through the snow in threadbare pajamas. Viktor squinted, gasped when he saw his face.

 _“Yuuri,”_ he whispered, and ran after him, letting the door slam shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and reviews are really appreciated!!


	6. Closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey heyyyyy guess who finally updated!!
> 
> big thanks to everyone who's been leaving such nice comments, you guys are the best <3

_(He stepped on the ice, out of breath, but the boy was gone. A man with long silver hair stood between him and a man in a dark uniform, shouting at him to run.)_

He frowned, and stepped forward, confused. The ice cracked under his weight, but he kept walking. _That hair, that voice… it was so familiar, if he could just get a little closer…_

_(The man with the silver hair threw himself protectively over Yuuri, but it was too late; the ice was cracking, and they were sinking, drowning, as the man stared down with unfeeling eyes…)_

“Yuuri! Yuuri, wake up!” Viktor pulled him out of the water, ignoring the icy sting of the water as it hit his skin. He shifted his arms, holding them securely under Yuuri’s knees and lower back, and carried him off of the cracked ice, trying to keep him warm in his embrace.

Yuuri thrashed in the grip of whoever had grabbed him, coughing and spluttering back to consciousness. “No, let me go, he’s drowning, he’s-”

“Yuuri, it’s me, it’s Viktor. It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He held him tightly until Yuuri’s eyes fluttered open. 

“Viktor, I-” He shivered violently, clutching at the thin fabric of Viktor’s nightshirt. “I don’t know what happened; I was sleeping, and…” 

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. Let’s go back inside; you’re freezing,” he said softly, turning back toward the hotel and trudging through the snow. Once they crossed the threshold, he slowed down and asked, “Can you walk?”

Yuuri nodded, and Viktor gently set him down, keeping one arm arm around his shoulders. Yuuri pressed his face against the side of Viktor’s chest, letting him lead them up the stairs. He stopped in front of Yuuri’s room, and Yuuri stepped forward and opened the door.

“Can you… stay with me? Just for a little while?” His voice was timid, and still a little shaky. 

Viktor smiled gently at him. “Of course.”

Yuuri went to sit on the couch, and Viktor found him some dry clothes and blankets. He smiled appreciatively, and pulled a blanket around his shoulders. They sat quietly for a moment until another shiver went down Yuuri’s body.

“I’m going to get you some tea, okay?” He stood up, ignoring the numbness creeping into his cold feet. “I’ll be right back.”

Yuuri nodded in acknowledgement, and he made his way toward the kitchen. Luckily, the doors were unlocked, and the stove didn’t seem too complicated to use. 

Once he set a kettle to boil, he started searching through the cabinets for tea and mugs. Even as he tried to focus on finding the tea, his thoughts strayed back to Yuuri. 

He hadn’t had a nightmare like that since they’d been traveling together, let alone sleepwalked. What would have happened if he hadn’t seen him on the ice? Viktor shuddered at the thought. 

He felt something for Yuuri that he didn’t know he could feel anymore, and that made losing him all the more terrifying. 

The whistle of the kettle snapped him out of his thoughts, and he quickly moved it off of the heat. He dropped two bags of tea into the mugs, and poured the hot water deftly over them. 

He put everything away, and tea in hand, headed back to Yuuri’s room.

Viktor knocked softly to let Yuuri know he was back before opening the slightly ajar door with his foot and walking through.

Yuuri had changed into the dry clothes, and seemed almost asleep on the couch. His eyes fluttered open as Viktor stepped into the room, and a slight smile crept up his cheeks. 

Viktor held two steaming mugs, and passed one over as he sat down beside him. Yuuri hummed his thanks, and sipped at his tea. He shifted to free some of the blanket, and draped it over both of them.

After a few minutes, Yuuri broke the silence.

“I- I’ve never had a nightmare as vivid as that. I used to get them a lot when I was younger, but once I got older, they stopped. I’ve never done something so dangerous before.

“I’m sorry I made you worry about me,” he finished quietly.

“Yuuri, don’t apologize. I’m going to worry no matter what because I care about you. I- You mean so much to me, and I want to be there for you so this won’t happen again.” 

He felt his cheeks warm with the admission, and glanced over at Yuuri again. His knees were bent against his chest, and he gazed into his cup. His eyes shone for a second, but he blinked quickly and smiled softly as he turned to Viktor. 

“Thank you. For everything, really. I- I never thought I could feel this way about anyone, let alone have them feel the same for me.”

Viktor’s heart started pounding, but his head felt surprisingly clear. Everything about this moment- the closeness, the gentle admissions, the affection- everything hit him at once. 

This was everything he was so sure he could never feel again. 

He leaned in, ever so slightly, and let his eyes fall closed. 

Just when he started to panic, he felt a slight pressure against his lips, and Yuuri’s hand came up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His anxiety melted away, and he couldn’t help but smile into the kiss.

They broke apart after a few moments, and Yuuri rested his face against Viktor’s chest. Viktor took the opportunity to press a gentle kiss into his hair, and after a few minutes, Yuuri’s breathing turned slow and deep. 

Viktor quietly moved the blanket off of himself once he thought he had fallen asleep, and quietly made his way to the door. Hardly three seconds had passed before Yuuri made a soft sound at his absence, and padded over to him. He turned to go with a soft smile at him, but Yuuri grabbed his sleeve. “What-”

“Stay with me,” he said suddenly, his voice shy.

Viktor stared at him for a moment, and a warm feeling blossomed in his chest. “Okay.”

Yuuri grabbed the blanket off the couch, and laid it on the bed before crawling under the comforter. Viktor followed a moment later, and lied down beside him. After a few quiet seconds, he wrapped his arms around Yuuri and pulled him closer. 

They fell asleep like that, enveloped in warmth and in each other. 

The next morning, Yuuri woke to see ribbons of sunlight streaming over Viktor’s sleeping face. However, he could hardly appreciate the gentle peace of the moment before it was interrupted by a loud knocking at the door.

“Yuuri! Yuuri, have you seen Viktor? He wasn’t in his bed-”

The knob turned under his hand, and the door swung open. “Oh, sorry! You must have forgotten to-” He froze when he noticed Viktor sleeping next to him. His expression was somewhere between shock and amusement, and Yuuri felt his cheeks go red. 

Viktor started to stir beside him, and Phichit turned to leave, a smug grin on his face.

Yuuri sat up and started pulling the blankets off himself. “Wait, Phichit, it wasn't like-”

“I don't really care what you two get up to; it's none of my business. Have fun, be safe and all that.” He paused at the door before turning back and saying, “Congratulations, by the way!” and closed the door behind him.

“Phichit!” Yuuri called, mortified. “That's not what-” He sighed in defeat, and Viktor laughed as he got out of bed.

~*~*~

When Yuuri returned to his room to prepare for the gala, he stopped almost instantly. 

An elegant suit was laid out on his bed, wrapped in a semi-opaque bag. He held it up, letting the bag fall to the ground as he took it in.

The white embroidery of the designer label stood in stark contrast to the refined black of the suit. The sharp angles were softened by the material, and the inside of the jacket felt smooth, like still water. 

He pulled it on carefully, revelling at the feel of the nicest clothes he’d ever worn. He buttoned the dress shirt last, and looked in the mirror. 

He almost couldn’t recognize himself; even with his unkempt hair, he looked less like a dock worker and more like… royalty. The fit of the suit clung to his body, and gave him a more defined look than the shapeless clothes he’d worn before. 

Even after his disastrous attempt at tying the bow tie, he couldn’t help but smile. He’d never cared much about his physical appearance, but for the first time, he felt attractive. 

He knocked on Phichit and Viktor’s door a few minutes later, bow tie in hand. He felt almost nervous about seeing Viktor, about Viktor seeing _him_ , but his anxiety melted away when Phichit opened the door with an easy grin. Apparently Viktor was still getting ready in their bathroom, so they had most of the room to themselves.

Phichit was already dressed in his regalia, similar to Yuuri’s own but with accents of gold and red placed tastefully across the suit. His hair was combed neatly, and he seemed perfectly at ease. 

He tied Yuuri’s bow tie quickly, and led him to the full length mirror. “Viktor’s got good taste, huh?”

Yuuri’s cheeks flushed, and he started stammering something in reply, but Phichit just laughed. 

“Not that you aren’t a catch, Yuuri, but I meant the suit. He picked it out himself. Had to guess your measurements, too.” He laughed again at Yuuri’s flustered expression and dropped onto their couch. “Viktor! We need to get going!”

“Okay, I’m done, let’s-” Viktor stepped out of the room, flipping off the lights as he did, and froze when he saw Yuuri. His eyes went wide, and a slight pink crept up his cheeks.

“You look… it looks perfect on you, Yuuri.” Phichit rolled his eyes at them, and grabbed his room key as they stepped into the corridor. Viktor offered Yuuri his arm as Phichit locked the door behind them, and they headed down the stairs toward the ballroom. 

Music floated through the closed doors and into the hall outside of the room, and the security agents waved them through after Phichit handed them their invitations.

The ballroom was hardly recognizable when they walked in; people were milling about, and everything had been polished to perfection. Candles and electric lights gleamed in every corner, their light spilling over the room. Someone was playing the piano, and a few people were dancing to the soft music, despite the earliness of the hour.

He felt hyperconscious of Viktors arm around his own, but the few people who looked up when they walked in quickly turned back to their conversations. Phichit found their place cards, and after a moment of searching, led them to their table. 

A few people were already sat at their table, talking over glasses of champagne. The women wore elegant, modern dresses with fine beading and sequins that caught the light as they moved. 

As Yuuri sat down, he realized with a strange sense of pride that for once in his life, his clothes were just as fine as everyone else’s. 

Viktor and Phichit made casual conversation with the people at their table, with Yuuri occasionally piping in. They started by discussing the hotel and the music, but once they switched to current events, Yuuri gradually stopped talking.

He had no idea how Viktor and Phichit managed to keep up with the news over the past month; they spent most of their time teaching him events and lineage from centuries ago. 

Just when he thought the conversation might turn back toward a subject he knew, one of the women, Risa, mentioned the economy, and Yuuri knew it was hopeless. 

He tried to seem interested, but ended up mainly focusing on his food as they talked. He’d never understood why it might be important to keep up with foreign affairs before he’d been swept up in all this, and he made a mental note to check the newspaper more thoroughly the next time he had a chance.

Yuuri was just setting his drink down when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned toward Viktor, worried for a moment that he wanted Yuuri’s opinion on whatever they were talking about, but sighed in relief when he gestured away from the table. 

“May I request the honor of a dance?” His eyes sparkled as he stood and held out a hand. 

“Of course,” Yuuri said, grinning as they set off toward the now crowded floor. 

Thankfully, the song wasn’t too fast, so Yuuri didn’t have much trouble with it. 

“Thanks for getting me out of there,” he said, turning under Viktor’s raised arm as the music swelled. 

“You mean you’d rather dance with me than discuss the intricacies of the German economy? Yuuri, I’m so honored,” he teased, leading them away from the more drunken couples. 

They danced for most of the rest of the evening, occasionally accepting new partners for a dance, including Phichit once or twice. 

As the evening wound down, the pianist retired, fitting a record over the gramophone as he left. Most of the attendees had left as well, and the conversation had dropped to an occasional quiet murmur. 

Phichit headed up to bed about an hour before they did, warning them not to stay up too late with a not-so-subtle wink. 

They eventually gave up on keeping with the rhythm, choosing instead to sway together in a slow circle. Yuuri rested his forehead against Viktor’s, occasionally pressing kisses to his lips, or trailing them down his jaw. 

They stood there for what seemed like an eternity, locked in each other’s embrace until the wait staff started to clear the tables around them. They finally left the gala, the moon shining down through the darkened bay windows.

Yuuri kept his hand beside Viktor’s as they made their way up the staircase, brushing his it against his every so often. Viktor smiled softly, and took Yuuri’s index and middle fingers subtly in his hand, and felt heat rush to his cheeks when Yuuri forwent the gesture to fully hold his hand. 

“Thank you for tonight. It was… well, like a dream,” Yuuri said, beaming at him as they walked hand and hand down the dimly lit corridor.  
Viktor hummed in agreement, pulling Yuuri’s hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “It really was perfect.”

They reached Viktor and Phichit’s room, and Viktor saw the faintest frown on Yuuri’s face as he went to retrieve his key from his breast pocket. He patted the front of his chest a few times and checked his back pocket before running a hand through his bangs.

“I must have left my key in the room,” he said with a sigh. “Well, Phichit can let me in if I wake him up.” He went to knock on the door when he his fist hit something soft instead.

Yuuri caught his hand, and there was something in his eyes Viktor hadn’t seen before. “Don't wait up Phichit; you can sleep with me.” It seemed more like a demand than a suggestion. 

Viktor was a bit surprised at Yuuri’s tone, but more so at himself when he realized how much he wanted to.

_I wish I saw this side of him more often,_ he mused, and looked up at Yuuri’s now worried expression.

“Um! That is- I mean, sleep in my room with me,” he stuttered, nervously wringing his hands. “I can sleep on the couch if you want, I’m sorry-”

Viktor felt overwhelmed with affection as Yuuri kept rambling, and quickly took his hands in his own. 

“Yuuri, it’s more than okay. Besides, it’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.”

The awkwardness of a moment ago vanished as Yuuri smiled, and started in the direction of his room with Viktor’s hand in his. He looked back at him with the softest smile, and Viktor could have just melted from that look alone.

Yuuri pulled the door open, and a moment later, his lips were pressed fervently against Viktor’s. He pulled him closer through the door frame.

Viktor let out a small moan as Yuuri's strong fingers dug tightly into his waist, and felt blindly behind him for the handle to shut the door, never breaking the kiss. The door shut with a load bang, a little less gracefully than Viktor had hoped for. 

Yuuri broke the kiss and looked up at him. With a small smile he grabbed Viktor by the hand, and lead him further into the darkened room.

~*~*~

They walked quickly through the small town, following a few meters behind the General.

“I can’t believe we actually left the country to search for the lost prince,” JJ muttered. “I mean, it’s been years; there’s no way he’s still alive. Isn’t this a waste of our time?” 

Chris glanced ahead, making sure the General was out of earshot. “I know, but General Vasnetsov thinks we should start searching again, and he seems really committed to following up on this. I don’t think we’re going to find anything, but we owe him that much to help him look, right?”

“Yeah, you’re right.” They kept walking, looking around every so often for the inn that the supposed lost prince was staying at. The stationmaster had pointed them in the direction he had gone in, along with his silver haired companion and one other man, and now they were combing through the town to find them. “Do you think he feels guilty that he couldn’t save Yuuri? I mean, he always insists on investigating sightings himself. Do you think that’s why?”

“Probably. He was there when Yuuri was attacked, and even though he tried to save him, he went missing in the battle. I mean, it would definitely bother me.” 

JJ signed, and kicked at a rock with his boot. “I just hope he’s not reading into this too much. The prince is gone, but it’s not like it was his fault. There’s more important things we could be focusing our time on, that’s all.”

“I know, trust me.” The General stopped down for a second, and they both stood up straighter in case he turned around. When he started walking again, Chris dropped the formality, and started the conversation again. “Anyway, how’s your girlfriend?” 

JJ’s eyes lit up. “Oh, she’s-”

“Giacometti! Leroy!” The General turned suddenly, and pointed at a building down the road. “That’s the place. That’s where the prince is staying.” He walked briskly on ahead, not waiting for them to catch up.

When they found out that the three had already left for Germany a week ago, the General was oddly silent. They got as much information from the innkeeper as they could, and headed back toward the train station. 

“Their reservation was under Chulanont,” he said, whether to himself or them, they couldn’t tell. “I should have known they were involved in all this.”

Chris and JJ exchanged a confused look, but he didn’t seem to notice. “We need to find them as soon as possible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we'll try and update sooner next time we promise!! thanks for sticking with us so far :D
> 
> also- ladylanternlight is currently working on the scene that follows that fade to black in the middle there and it'll be posted as a separate work in this series once it's done


	7. Réalisation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyyyyy sorry we died for a few months there...

Eventually, Phichit pointed out a large house at the end of the lane, and the cab slowed down. He paid the driver, and Yuuri opened the door.

The house was enormous compared to the cramped apartments they'd passed in the city, bigger even than the orphanage he'd grown up in. Its sprawling lawn was perfectly manicured, and the flowers in the window boxes had already started to bloom.

“It's gorgeous,” he breathed. 

Viktor walked up beside him, and a strange, almost sad expression crossed his features as he stared up at the manor. Still, a smile came easily to his lips as he turned to face Yuuri. “Come on, Your Highness.” He twined his gloved fingers in Yuuri’s, and followed Phichit to the door.

As they approached the door, Yuuri’s nerves quickly flared back to life. What if he really wasn't the prince? Would Mila really be able to tell? Or worse, _what if he was?_

How would that change everything he had with Viktor? 

Phichit glanced over at them with a nervous grin, and reached for the elaborate knocker. Yuuri must have started shaking, because Viktor gave his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“Don't worry,” he murmured as the sound of bustling in the house reached them. “No matter what happens, we'll be fine, I promise.” 

His gaze was locked on the door, and for a second, Yuuri couldn't tell whether he was trying to reassure him or himself.

He didn't have time to finish his thought, however; the door before them swung open, revealing a girl in a knee length white dress, her dark hair tied back in a loose plait.

“Bonjour, puis-je vous-” She squinted at them for a moment before recognition dawned on her features. 

“Phichit? Viktor?” She grinned, and motioned for them to come inside. “It's been so long, how are you two? Mila’s going to be so excited to see you; it's been ages.” 

She beamed at them and nodded politely to Yuuri before turning to go find Mila, her hair whipping behind her as she went.

Phichit sighed contentedly, and glanced around. “Man, it's been so long. I forgot how much I loved this place.” Yuuri looked at him questioningly, and he continued, “Well, I lived here for a while after the revolution. Mila and Sara are like family to me.” 

Yuuri’s eyes widened a bit, but Phichit didn't say anything else, so he took to looking around the foyer. 

It was simply but lovingly curated: a few paintings and ornaments adorned the pale walls, and a vase of fresh flowers rested atop a desk. Sunlight spilled in through the windows, throwing tiny prisms all over the walls.

Yuuri was absentmindedly counting them when the girl returned with someone else. Her hair was a deep red, cropped just below her chin, and matching a few of the floral accents in her dark dress. Her eyes were bright when she saw them, but narrowed suspiciously when she saw Yuuri. 

She sighed, and her face was drawn in annoyance. 

“Don’t tell me: you’re only here because you think he’s the prince.”

Phichit smiled sheepishly, and shrugged.

“Ugh, seriously?” She rolled her eyes, and sighed emphatically before her lips quirked up a bit. “Fine. I’ll interview him, but don’t think you’re getting away that easily. It’s been forever; we need to catch up!” 

He grinned, and followed her and Sara into the parlor, already filling them in on everything that had happened on their journey so far. 

Yuuri took a breath, and followed them in.

~*~*~

Mila glanced at him over one shoulder, her stockinged feet resting against the arm of the couch. Sara leaned against her back as she absentmindedly flipped through a book, her feet crossed neatly over the rug.

She motioned for them to sit on the sofa opposite hers, and Phichit flopped down while Yuuri gingerly perched toward the edge of the seat. Viktor stood nearby, leaning against the wall with his hands clasped tightly in front of him. 

After a few quiet moments, Mila reached over and shuffled through the books and magazines resting on their coffee table. Once she recovered what she was looking for (a few pieces of paper, bound together and dog-eared at the corners) she cleared her throat.

“First question,” she began, sounding undeniably apathetic. “Where were you born?”

~*~*~

The minutes passed quickly, and between Mila’s endless questions and Yuuri’s hesitant lapses between answers, almost an hour had gone by. 

“Okay, then. Last question.” She took a breath, and looked into his eyes. 

“What happened to you on the day of the revolution? Before the Chulanonts got you out of the castle, I mean.” 

Yuuri froze. After all his lessons, after everything he’d learned… he’d forgotten to ask about the revolution. Phichit’s eyes lowered, fixing on part of the sofa, and Viktor had gone strangely still, his face unreadable. 

“I…” His gaze settled on one of the photographs on the mantel: the old palace in wintertime, before the revolution. The faded grey light caught so many details — the designs in the brickwork, footprints in snow, even a few snowflakes as they fell toward the frozen pond.

A sharp pain went through his head, quickly receding to a dull ache. Just then, he remembered something — a few disjointed moments, memories from fleeting dreams.

“There — there was a man, with a sword. He was trying to kill me, I think. But then there was this boy with long silver hair, and he saved me…” He smiled sheepishly at Mila, ignoring the pain in his head. “I’m sorry, I really don’t remember much from before the revolution.”

She gave him a strange look, then looked back over her list. 

Seeing the castle, stringing together those thoughts… could they be memories? He felt dizzy, like words he couldn’t understand were trapped just behind his lips. “Keep your eyes on me,” he murmured, too wrapped up in his thoughts to realize he’d just spoken aloud.

“Sorry, what?” Sara asked, and he felt himself redden, like he’d just told an intimate secret. 

“I — nothing,” he lied quickly, but the words were already fading from his mind.

~*~*~

Just over Yuuri’s shoulder, Viktor froze, chills racing up his spine. He clasped his hands tighter, trying to still their shaking. 

Everything seemed to blur around him, Yuuri’s words pushing all other thoughts from his mind. 

_Keep your eyes on me…_

His prince was dead; he’d always known that. 

_But how could anyone else know —_

Everything came into a sudden clarity. 

He’d never believed the conspiracy that Yuuri could still be alive, he couldn’t allow himself to hope. It was easier to move on, easier to shut that part of him away and face the cold reality. 

But somehow, the Yuuri he’d fallen for, Yuuri, with his fierce passion veiled under layers of timidity and anxiety, who could fire back a quick retort even when he was flustered… somehow he was the same prince he’d loved a lifetime ago.

He almost didn’t notice that the interview was over; Mila looked at him questioningly, and Yuuri gave him a nervous smile. So he’d passed the test, then. 

Of course he had. 

He was Prince Yuuri, after all. 

Viktor managed a weak smile, blinking his tears away before following Phichit out of the room. 

~*~*~

“And Yuuri?” Mila called over her shoulder as he was about to cross the threshold. 

He paused, looking back toward her.

“If you aren’t who you say you are… If you hurt Yurio at all…” She paused, and her eyes took on an icy glare. “He’s family. If anything happens to him, I will personally exact that same pain on you.” Her gaze softened. “I want to trust you, though. Please don’t make me regret that.” 

With that, she swung her legs onto the ground and leaned her head on Sara’s shoulder, staring at her book intently. 

~*~*~

“What do you mean, _they’re gone!"_ The General snarled, pounding a gloved fist against the concierge’s desk. JJ stared at Chris, eyes widening for a moment before he could school his expression. 

The woman behind the desk, however, seemed more annoyed than intimidated. “Sir, you need to calm down. I mean what I said — the three people under the Chulanont reservation checked out a week ago. If you can’t keep your temper in check, sir, then maybe you should wait outside.” She watched cooly as the General turned away, fists clenched tightly at his sides.

Chris and JJ followed a fair distance behind, almost unwilling to leave the sanctuary of the lobby. 

“I’ve never seen him like that,” JJ said, almost under his breath.

Chris gave him a pained smile, and fixed his eyes on the General’s retreating back. “He lashes out a lot when it comes to the Prince. It used to be worse. You’ll get used to it.” His gaze dropped to the marble underfoot. 

JJ tried to respond, to address the uncertainty in his tone, but the words died on his lips. 

~*~*~

The next month passed quickly; Mila promised to arrange a meeting with Yurio, and despite her initial wariness, she gradually warmed to Yuuri. He even made her laugh with a few stories about his friends growing up, and the mischief they would get into.

Phichit spent his time catching up with Mila, chatting incessantly in rapid-fire French, and going into the city with Sara.

Yuuri figured he must have told her something about his relationship with Viktor early on, judging by her sly smiles and quiet muttering that forced Phichit to smother his laughter behind his hand.

He was sure one of them had told Mila too, but she hadn’t said anything about it yet. Yuuri thanked her silently; he wasn’t sure if he could handle the embarrassing looks from all three of them.

Sara and Mila had given them each separate guest rooms, but after the first night Viktor showed up at his door, they decided to stay together. 

Viktor seemed different after Mila’s questioning: carefree, more open — more at peace. Yuuri didn’t know what caused the sudden change, but he didn’t want to pry; Viktor didn’t need to explain his happiness. 

About two weeks after they had arrived, Viktor was brushing Yuuri’s damp hair when he made a discontented sound.

Yuuri glanced back, and gently took the brush from Viktor when he saw his troubled expression. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Viktor’s eyes widened a bit before he plastered on a smile. “Nothing, really. Don’t worry.” He reached for the brush when Yuuri gave him a stern look, and he sighed.

“I just— I’m nervous about you finally meeting Yurio, that’s all.”

Yuuri cocked his head, and thought for a moment. Viktor hardly ever got nervous, especially about things like this. “Viktor, it’ll be—”

“It’s just— I don’t want anything to change. I don’t want to lose you.” It sounded like he was biting something back, but Yuuri didn’t want to push him.

“You won’t,” he said simply. “Remember when we first got here, and you promised me that we’d be okay, no matter what?” Viktor nodded slightly, eyes cast down at the wrinkled blankets. 

“Well, this is my promise to you.” Yuuri leaned in, lightly pressing his forehead against Viktor’s. “You won’t lose me, because there’s nothing that would ever make me leave your side. Okay?”

Viktor’s eyes shone, and he pressed his lips softly against Yuuri’s gentle smile. 

The kiss was chaste at first, brought on by his sudden overwhelming need to be closer to Yuuri. He twined his hands in his damp hair as Yuuri wrapped his arms haphazardly around his neck.

Yuuri’s cheeks were flushed once they parted, and Viktor stifled a giggle.

“What?” he asked, half indignant, half amused.

“Just give me the brush,” he said, careful to keep the laughter out of his voice.

Yuuri pouted dramatically as Viktor gently brushed his messy hair back into place, occasionally leaning down to press kisses along his hairline. 

Yuuri hummed contentedly, and let his eyes close as he leaned into Viktor’s touch. Something about this moment, the silence punctuated by the quiet sounds of the brush and Viktor’s soft breathing, made him feel complete. His ever-present anxiety about finding his family, about anything that could disrupt what he had with Viktor seemed faded — quiet and disconnected like a poorly tuned radio.

They sat down to breakfast a few days before Yuuri was supposed to meet Yurio, discussing how to best go about introducing them. 

“I think we should be more subtle. Viktor and Phichit can wait by Yurio’s balcony until the show ends, and once he comes out, that’s when you introduce them,” Sara said around a mouthful of toast.

Viktor hummed, and after a second shook his head. “Yurio hates me. There’s no way he’d even let me come near him.”

Mila sighed, tapping a finger against her lips in concentration. “I’m probably your best shot at getting past his envoy; he trusts me the most. Maybe if I keep them distracted, you can get past and talk to him?” 

Yuuri felt himself pale. He’d always assumed that Viktor or Phichit would be with him when he finally met the Prince. “I’m not sure if I—”

“I think that could work,” Phichit interrupted. “How are you going to get him into the reserved area, though? Nothing about him really screams ‘noble and entitled,’ you know?” He looked at Yuuri, and grinned sheepishly. “No offense.”

Yuuri stared abashedly down at his vest for a moment, once a deep hazel, but now darned and faded from age. He rolled his eyes, feigning offense before going back to his food. Phichit wasn’t wrong, after all. Even his one expensive suit, the single nicest thing he owned, couldn’t possibly measure up to the higher fashions of the nobility. 

Sara’s eyes widened, and she grinned mischievously. “Unless…”

And that was how Sara and Phichit successfully conned Yuuri and Viktor into a day long shopping trip.

~*~*~

Mila ended up tagging along too (“I miss you when you’re gone all day,” she said simply, linking her fingers with Sara’s as they stepped into the cab.) The grey haze of afternoon hovered over them, threatening rain as they followed Phichit and Sara down the bustling streets.

Yuuri half focused as they wove through the throngs of people, his eyes drawn to the twinkling electric lights that flickered on as the sky grew darker. 

It struck him suddenly how different this city was from St. Petersburg — it seemed insurmountably lively: people constantly milling about, chatting and laughing over any little thing. Without the layer of cold to separate them, he supposed it must be easier. 

He’d become accustomed to the cold, maybe even grown to enjoy its embrace — comfortable, safe, silent. But now that he was here, now that he knew of warmth, of effervescence — 

He startled a bit as Viktor’s hand wrapped around his. 

“Yuuri, you have to keep up, I almost lost you!” he scolded playfully. His scarf brushed against Yuuri with the wind, and he tucked it back under the collar of his dark coat. The lights danced in his eyes, bringing out a million different shades of blue. 

Yuuri’s face felt hot for a second, but he grinned, leaning forward on his toes and pressing a light kiss against Viktor’s lips. “Sorry. It’s a habit of mine to get distracted by beautiful sights.”

He laughed, pulling a blushing Viktor behind him as he caught sight of Mila’s red hair disappearing around a shop corner. 

~*~*~

Phichit and Sara decided on a few shops, all famous enough that even Yuuri knew of them. Elegant finery surrounded them, hanging neatly on racks or displayed on mannequins. Sara pulled a few shopkeepers aside, explaining what they needed, and before he knew it, Yuuri was being pulled into a fitting room.

Under the direction of Phichit, the shopkeepers started hanging new suits on the door, each more elaborate than the last. If they noticed the shabbiness of his well worn coat hanging outside, they didn’t say anything about it, for which he was grateful. 

Yuuri stepped outside after trying each new suit, waiting for Phichit and Sara’s opinions. Though he was satisfied with the first one he tried, they were quick to voice their disapproval, and hand him another to try.

Viktor met his eye from across the store, and Yuuri gave him an exasperated grin. He gave him a quick thumbs up before laughing at something Mila said, and turning back toward the dresses they were perusing.

After what seemed like hours, Phichit started browsing the racks himself, determined to find something for Yuuri. He and Sara talked lightly for a few minutes before Phichit rushed back, a lone hanger clutched tightly in his hand. 

“This one’s perfect,” he said, pressing it into Yuuri’s hands. “Go, try it on!”

Yuuri obliged, and searched for Viktor as Phichit and Sara circled around him. He noticed Mila waiting outside another fitting room, and focused back on his own situation. 

They grinned at him, and practically hauled him over to the checkout counter.

~*~*~

The electric lights blinked out as the General stepped into the cold spring morning. “Paris,” he acknowledged quietly, and handed a few bills to the cab driver. 

“Paris,” JJ sighed, and Chris managed a smile before the General set off again, eyes fixed ahead unblinkingly, never looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so so much for sticking with us through all our hiatuses!!! we love you all <3


End file.
